Frite Nite
by BellaSarah
Summary: My insight into Andy during the boxing scene from last week's episode.  Spoilers for S2 obviously. Rated teen for mild language


_A/N: Hey, guys, remember me? I know a bunch of you are waiting for the end of Sam, Andy, Wild and I swear I'll finish it. I've had a hard time being so OOC with that after all we've already seen this season. Tonight I'm a little melancholy and I seem to do melancholy Andy well so I thought I'd give this a shot. I've not read any FFs this week because I figured the end of this week's episode launched a dozen new ones! This has been simmering since Thursday. I hope you enjoy. Leave me a review here or on Twitter—BellaSarah241. My account is locked but if I know you're a RB fan I'll add ya if you want!_

**Frite Nite**

"I can't but I got something you need to do. Right now. Come here."

I could only stare after my former TO as he marched off, unbuttoning his uniform top. No matter how appealing some part of my brain thought the image was there was nothing I wanted to do more than get some scrambled eggs and bacon. It had been a really long night and I was starving. I followed him as we wound through the empty hallways. It had been a mass exodus when Best unlocked the doors after the all clear and our booted footsteps were a muffled echo.

Sam pushed the door open to the division gym and motioned me in. I resisted the urge to sigh deeply. The very last thing I needed was a workout. Or a philosophy lesson—that would be even worse. He'd been looking at me like I was half crazy for weeks. Not that I could really blame him because everything was pissing me off. Well really it just made me hurt but I could express it more easily in anger. It was a lot less pathetic. And let's face it on a scale from one to pathetic I was a loser.

"What are we doing?" I asked quietly as I stepped into the middle of the mat where Sam had motioned me. I watched as he shrugged out of his shirt and moved toward me.

"You need to hit something," he said, handing me boxing gloves. I tried to ignore the crazy dance in my stomach as my hands closed over his gently.

"Hit what?" I asked, giving him a skeptical look. I watched as he strapped his own gloves on.

"Me," he said with utter earnestness, his dark eyes on me. Just for one second we were Sam and Andy. Not TO and Trainee. Vet and Rookie. We were just Sam and Andy, the two people who felt so much for each other but couldn't seem to get it right.

"Pfbt, I'm okay. Thank you," I said sarcastically, dropping the gloves like they were hot. I wasn't going to hit Sam over Luke. No way. If anyone deserved to be hit it was Luke and I certainly wouldn't give him the satisfaction of doing that. But then Sam cuffed me gently on the side of the head. A playful tap meant to get my blood up. And it worked because Sam always knew how to push my buttons.

"Don't do that," I warned, afraid of what would be unleashed if I opened those flood gates. This time he pushed my shoulder. Harder. I rocked back a step my anger bubbling just below the surface now.

I got it. I knew what he was doing. Sam was handing me the proverbial ax. He was offering to weather whatever emotional storm I was suppressing. He was being my partner. Not just behind the badge but as he had so many times before. In real life. In the short time I'd known him he'd become my emotional rock. The person I could depend on to keep me straight—good or bad.

And I think that's why I'd been having such a hard time with Luke's betrayal. Beyond the obvious, of course. I had desperately tried to avoid my father's footsteps. I'd tried to choose the person who would fit the perfect image of what I thought I needed to be safe from the hell that had been my childhood and my father's life. So I'd chosen Luke Callaghan, detective extraordinaire and all around perfect guy.

But after Jo bitch-slapped my rose-colored glasses right off my face, I was seeing a different Luke. The Luke who was really good at lying. Who could look me in the eye and tell me everything I wanted to hear and seem so genuine. I was starting to learn something. Cops manipulate for a living. We're constantly having to go at people from all angles to get the information we need to do our jobs. We do it daily. And I think for some it becomes part of who they are. Now I was seeing a different Luke. I was seeing Luke the manipulator. Luke the drinker who was starting to look suspiciously like my dad many years ago in the actions he's taking. I was starting to see Luke the person and I was unsettled that I could have been so far off base. Luke is a good cop and I think he has a good heart. Maybe I'm a fool for believing that right now but it's true. BUT he is not the guy I thought he was. He gave me a ring and he cheated on me. Hard to excuse that on any level.

So in trying to avoid my father's footsteps I'd made a grievous error. I'd chosen the wrong guy. And in the process I'd changed forever my relationship with a great guy. A guy who was flawed and maddening and opinionated and my best friend. I mean Traci is my best friend but Sam's my best friend in a different way. Our lives depend on each other. I trust him on a level that I trust no one else. No matter how mad he makes me, and boy can he, I know that he has my back in life. It's that simple. There is an intimacy there that can't really be explained. Not like a sexual intimacy but something that transcends that. That's deeper. And I'd hurt him.

And damnit I was so pissed! At every one. At Luke for the obvious reasons. At me for being so. stupid. And at Sam for just standing by and watching it happen. For pushing me toward Luke when he could have told me I was being an idiot. For trying to help me achieve what I thought I really wanted when he knew I was setting myself up for disappointment. For being my freaking buddy, my pal. Things were different between us. I'd lost my chance.

So it was easy, when I fell back a step with his tap, to follow through with a fluid motion and hit him in the gut. I don't think he'd expected it. He grunted and doubled over with a wince that I found wholly satisfying despite the stinging and burning his tightened abs had caused my fist.

"That's what you want? Alright," I asked narrowing my eyes at him. Still doubled over, he nodded. He wanted to be my punching bag. Fine. I had loads of pent up emotions for him that I didn't dare voice. I yanked off my own uniform top as he pointed down at the gloves I'd dropped.

"Come get em," he mocked. I scooped them up and strapped them on, my eyes locked with his. I watched as he almost gently lowered his gloves. I put mine to his. Another moment, just Andy and Sam. These moments confuse me. I don't know what they are. An echo of what might have been? The thought tears at me and I'm helpless to it. I have so much roiling inside of me and it just needs to get out.

I watch Sam has he moves. We take jabs. He lets me land a few good ones. He's pulling his punches. I know he is. I've watched Sam fight so many times I've lost count. He's a city kid and as he says, it's in his blood. It's second nature to him. But this is my fight and he's letting take the lead. When he feels I'm slacking off, he bates me back into it with a jab. He won't let me stop til he thinks I'm okay.

I relish the stretch and pull of my muscles. The power that ripples through me as I land a blow. And I realize he's right. This is exactly what I need. I can feel the weight leaving me. At the same time I'm aware of Sam's dark eyes watching me. He's measuring me, sizing me up—emotionally, mentally. It's what he does with me. He's looking for that something in me to signal that I'm going to be okay. He knows me so well.

I have to bite my lip, pleased with the thought. I'm holding back a little giggle and Sam sees what he's been looking for. That sign that I'm going to be alright. At that moment, I know it's true. No matter how foolish I feel or how upset I am, there will always be this. For whatever else cops are, their partnerships are life-long. I will always have Sam. I may have hurt him but he's here. He's alright. I'm alright.

Our jabs take on a goofy, silly tenor and suddenly we're both holding back laughter. We continue to swing but laughter is overtaking our movements. I can't remember the last time I laughed and right now I'm laughing so hard I'm about to cry.

"Don't do that," comes Sam's quiet voice and I realize I actually am crying. My vision is blurred with hot tears of shame and disappointment. I only catch the broad movement as he steps toward me. I flinch thinking he's going to hit me but instead his arms go around me and I'm cradled against him. I hold myself stiff for a moment torn between what I need and what I should do.

I should grieve in private, on my own terms, where Sam can't see my tears and misunderstand them. But I need Sam to hold me because my tears aren't for me. I mean they sort of are but not because I was so in love with Luke and my heart's breaking which is what I'm sure he thinks. Really, they're for us. For things that might have been. For things that can never be. For a wasted moment in time when I approached two roads and chose the wrong path. My tears are for the pain I think I might have caused him and for the pain I caused myself trying to deny him.

I melt against him, my arms snaking around him. It should be awkward, all things considered, only to be made more so with the bulky gloves. But it's just not. In those serendipitous moments when Sam and I seem to get something right, there is a moment of beauty and this is one of them. Just a simple hug of comfort. This is my Sam. My rock.

"I'm sorry," I mumble into his chest.

"Don't apologize. You needed to get it out."

"No." I pull out of his arms so that I can look at him. "I'm sorry for being an idiot." 

"Callaghan's the idiot, McNally."

"No, Sam, I'm sorry," I say, my eyes pleading him to understand what I can't seem to verbalize. "I'm a rookie. I make mistakes but I learn quickly and it won't happen again."

I hope he understands my metaphor although I'm not sure I even understand it myself. I'm not asking for anything, not expecting anything. I was just engaged to another man and I'm pretty sure any chance I had with Sam is gone. I'm not even sure I want a chance with Sam. I mean, I might but…I'm so messed up right now.

"I'm sorry," I say one last time and he purses his lips in that Sam Swarek manner that makes his eyes crinkle and I see that he gets it. He understands. I'm frightened and maybe he is too but there it is in the middle of the mat—the possibility of nothing and the hope for everything.

_A/N: Okay, so I took the title from the episode "Fite Nite" for obvious reasons—the boxing and the big ol' sign in the back of the scene. I changed it to Frite Nite as a play on words because I think that scene changes everything. We may not see it yet but I think it was the shift we've all been waiting for. This is meant to be a one shot. Let me know if you liked it. _


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